


Keeping Time

by interstellarshipwreck



Category: Cowboy Bebop (Anime), Samurai Champloo
Genre: Crossover, Inspired by Music, Mugen Swears A Lot, Time Travel, also sorry for the formatting idk how to tab on ao3, cameo by carole and tuesday’s carole, im embarrassed by this but fuck it what joy do we have in this pandemic, sounds like it would be crack but i promise it’s not, subtle fuu/mugen, temporal weirdness because i wanted a crossover, yes i did reference bill wurtz in chapter three
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:27:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27714749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/interstellarshipwreck/pseuds/interstellarshipwreck
Summary: In a world with warp drives, space and time anomalies are rare, poorly understood, and a real pain in the ass. But they happen. And it just so happened that some idiot messing with a time machine sent a pulse back far—so far— it dragged three foreign strangers into 2071. Now, their only hope is to avoid their own bounty, collect on the corrupt time scientist’s, and manage to get back home in one piece.
Comments: 10
Kudos: 9





	1. Let’s do the Time Warp!

The banjo tune rang out through the empty smoking area. Spike mouthed silently along with the intro, between drags of his cigarette. He knew this thing like the back of his hand, and each time it got the tiniest bit more aggravating. 

“Hiya amigos! All 300,000 bounty hunters in the star system, how y’all doin?”

“And now it’s time for Big Shot, the show that tells all about fugitives!”

“Shucks howdy, Jet,” Spike mocked, “how do you think Judy’s jacket stays on?” He bent his head over the back of the sofa to check for his partner in crime, but only got to hear Faye say something about duct tape, pasties, and him being a scummy pervert.

“What’s today’s bounty, Judy?”

“Well let’s see, Punch!” The busty blonde rolled out a comically long piece of paper, “well, this bounty ain’t for much, I can tell you that! Nothin’ more than 3000 woolongs, one for each! But there’s a kicker, Punch!”

“Kick or a punch?”

“These three strangers seem to be from a far off time, a far off place, or have gotten on some far out drugs! They report their names as Jin, Fuu, and some various expletives which the camera man is saying I cannot repeat!”

“Really? Besides some hair-care advice from that Samurai lookin’ fella, I can’t see them having much use! So why the bounty at all?”

“Well, did ya hear about the time anomalies that scientist-folks are picking up? All the way from the ruins of Earth to the distant Kuiper Belt!” Judy threw her arms out wide, and Spike eyed her chest for duct tape, “these here wayfaring strangers might just hold a clue!”

“I get your drift, Judy. Picking up these foreign folks won’t mean much, but you bounty hunters can expect a pretty penny from your local physics lab! So get on it, buckaroos! This has been Big Shot!”

Spike put out his cigarette with his shoe and yelled out to whoever was nearby, making Faye screech and Jet run hastily out of the kitchen. 

“Good news, everyone,” he loudly groaned, “we’re headed back to Earth. And I finally get to use the Japanese lessons my grandpa gave me.”

-

They’d been in the middle of an ambush, and not cause they wanted to be, or cause someone had found some counterfeit coins. 

No, Fuu had seen a strange glimmer in the air and (like the idiot she is, remarked Mugen) she ran after it faster than the men could catch up. Catching it in her hand like a slippery eel, it evaded her grasp, and it seemed the world itself ambushed them. The three blacked out, and when they woke up, somehow they were right on the ocean. A small island, in a small patch of coastal forest. 

“Not this shit again! What the hell is up with the ocean and me always dying?” Mugen yelled, and then coughed harshly. The air was so much smoggier now. Fuu held her hands over her nose at the stench, “y’aren’t dead, right?”

“If we can see you? I’m sure we aren’t.”

“Oh stuff it, Jin.”

The Samurai just rolled his eyes and looked around, before turning his head to the sky. It was night. But it wasn’t night like he knew it. The sky was full of tiny blinking dots, more noticeable and colorful than any star. “Is this simply a migraine, or do you see those too?”

“For once, you aren’t nuts. What the hell are those?”

“No idea. But wow, the stars tonight are twinkly. Kinda noisy.” Fuu remarked, trying and failing to find constellations. Somehow, the sky had shifted while they were out. All she caught was a single light moving through the darkness, “oh wow, a shooting star! Make a wish, guys!”

“Uh, that ain’t no shooting star, Fuu...”

“Yes, It’s getting bigger. Oh, dear, it’s getting a lot bigger.” Jin gasped, and kneeled to cover his head, bracing for impact. 

The water from the ocean soared above the three, and soaked them. It smelled foul, like garbage or gunpowder, or sulfur. A metallic clang rang out from the shoreline, and the two vagabonds drew their swords on instinct. 

“You sure this was Japan?” Spike scrunched up his face, “where’s all the cool neon lights and bars? Not even any buildings. Sheesh.”

“Japan sunk, remember, Spike-person?” Ed yelled from the door, Ein barking harshly in the background, “the Astral accident took out everywhere from Hokkaido to Kyushu! Boom-boom-boom! These are the Daitō islands, part of the Ryukyu islands! O-ki-na-wa!”

“What the hell...? I don’t get what that kid said, but she said Ryukyu, right?”

“I think so.”

“But if this is Ryukyu, where are all the boats?” Mugen paused, then whispered, “shit, did that kid mean Ufuagari?”

“How would I ever know that?”

“You wouldn’t, four-eyes. Those islands were so small, shitty and far that no one ever lived there. I doubt there’s even any food.”

“No food?!” Fuu gasped. With a quick shared look between Jin and Mugen, the latter pounced on her and covered her mouth. She licked his hand, smiling as he grimaced. Small victories. 

And then they heard it, the cock of a gun. They must’ve been too loud.

“Alright, you guys. This is the most likely place you’d be, and we’re the only people poor enough to take your bounty.” Spike casually spun his gun around, walking towards the forest, “so, here’s how it goes. You guys come out, we don’t shoot you if you’re nice, and we get 3000 woolongs. You go chat with some nice folks at a lab, and probably say hello for Faye.”

“I hate you, you know that?” Faye yelled from the shoreline sand. 

“...What’s a woolong?” Fuu muffled. 

“Why is his Japanese so... strange? It’s like the words are all out of order...”

“Hey dipshit!” Mugen yelled, walking out of the sparse woods, “your Japanese is terrible! Get some talking lessons!”

“Hey, my grandpa taught me! It’s my second language.” Spike raised his hands defensively, but dropped them- almost a little pissed- when he noticed the swords the men carried, “okay, what is it about chumps with swords wanting to kill me? Why is this a pattern?”

“And what the hell are you wearing?” 

“Excuse you, I look very handsome.”

Fuu stumbled over the underbrush, and stood next to the two fight-poised idiots, “wait, before you guys decide to fight—“

“We know, the Sunflower Samurai!”

“Well yeah, that. But also, you aren’t even stopping to talk. This guy said we have a bounty on our heads.” Fuu bowed slightly to the stranger, and looked up with a twitching nervousness, “so, what’s this about a bounty, Mister...?”

“Name’s Spike. As for the bounty, well, I’m not sure. An anonymous tip must’ve gotten out cause you were on Big Shot last night.”

“Come again?” Jin asked. 

“You know, Big Shot. Television show for bounty hunters. The cowboy guy with the fake accent, the hot blondie?”

“...What’s a television? What’s a cowboy?” Fuu asked. Behind the bounty hunter, Ed gasped. A moment to explain technology had arrived! She ran down the ship-ramp with laptop in tow, and into the heat of battle. Jet couldn’t even grab her by the scruff of the neck before she had Big Shot on instant replay. 

Jin rushed to wipe his glasses, and Mugen stood dumbfounded. Fuu gasped with both hands over her mouth as they gazed at the hologram screen. 

“How the hell are you doing that?!” Mugen demanded. He touched the screen and his finger went through. He nearly punched through it and hit Ed, but Spike pushed her out of the way. 

“Oh my god.” Jet muttered softly. 

“Holy shit!” Faye laughed wildly. 

“I can’t believe it’s really real,” Spike struggled to keep a grip on his gun, as it threatened to fall through his fingers, “real life time travel. What... what period of history do you think you’re in right now?”

“You’re making me doubt myself, but I believe it’s the Edo period.”

“Nope, not even close.” Spike let out an incredulous laugh, “you guys should really get on the ship.”

“Ship? That ain’t no ship.”

“Yeah, and this isn’t the Edo period, kid. It’s 2071.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wantanabe said there’s a shared universe, so technically this isn’t out of the question. Isn't that pretty cool? Also, this is my first multi-chapter fic, which is exciting! I hope you find the pace enjoyable. It's hard to balance 7 characters, but I'll certainly keep trying. As always, comments are super appreciated.


	2. Now You're Speaking my Language!

It was right around then that Fuu fainted, which didn't leave them with much choice. Mugen hauled her over his shoulder (muttering about how she could be so heavy, damn), and the three vagabonds boarded the Bebop.

To say they were mesmerized would be an understatement. Everything from the touch screen panels of the bridge to the strange lighting in the living room set off fireworks of confusion in their minds. They even eyed the neon yellow, metal couch with surprise as Mugen took Fuu off his shoulder. They managed to exchange names with a variety of hand gestures too, but the language barrier certainly didn’t help diplomacy. 

What  _ did _ help, however, were the vocal translators Ed had been working on. Originally, she blueprinted them for bounty missions. Not everyone knew the meaning of Sit Down and Shut Up, or even Drop The Gun. But any mad scientist needs test subjects, and she had three guinea pigs right here. It was time to get this show on the road! 

“It goes behind your ear like this, see?” Ed smiled, tucking something crossed between an antenna and a hearing aid behind the sleeping Fuu’s ear. The men just nodded, like they knew what was happening. Ed then attached a few EEG electrodes to Fuu’s head and got started on the bodyguards, “you might feel a little shock when I turn it on, but it’ll work! And that’s a promise, or my name isn’t Edward Wong Hau Pepelu Tivrusky the Fourth!”

“...I have to wonder, just how much is she confusing them right now?”

“Don’t think too hard about it, Faye,” Spike sighed, “this bullshit hurts my head enough.”

“The Edo freaks here, or Ed’s name?”

“Let’s just say anything that starts with ‘Ed’ makes we want to knock myself out for a few hours, okay?” The bounty hunter threw his hands over his eyes, groaning, “something tells me we’re not gonna be able to drop these suckers off at the lab so easily. It can’t be this easy. I don’t believe this.”

“Well, yeah. Obviously.” Faye walked down the steps behind him, and managed to flick his forehead by leaning over the banister, “if you even  _ think _ of taking them to some fucked up testing lab, I’ll do you that favor and knock you out cold. And then put you in the airlock.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“I made a sign that says ‘The Bebop Brig’ and everything. I can show you if you want. Or, y’know, we can help these lost, innocent people find their way home and bust the lab regardless.”

“Jesus fucking— that guy has prison tattoos, Faye, no way he’s innocent!”

“Faye-Faye! Spike person! Jet-person! Ein-not-person! Be quiet!”

“I’m not even talking, Ed—”

“We shall commence! We shall begin! Ed’s gonna make all your heads spiiiiin!” She sang, pouncing on the table, backflipping her way onto the banister. With lowered goggles, and smirking that wild smirk, she giddily activated the translators. 

“Lo, and behold! Do you read me? Ground control to Major Tom! Daisy, daisy, give me your answer—”

“Don’t you know how to shut up?!” Mugen groaned, then gritted his teeth. He didn’t sound like himself. He wasn’t himself. He didn’t know what he was saying, but then he did, and it was a strong kind of terrifying he’d never admit. His eyes shot over to Jin, who also opened his mouth to speak… and it wasn’t his voice that came out either, “what did you do to us, you snot-nosed bitch?”

“Hey, watch it!” Spike yelled. Ed just ran up the stairs and vanished into the gravity generation ring, Ein at her heels. 

“Okay, one, don’t talk to Ed like that,” Jet demanded, “two, It’s a translator earpiece, it isn’t gonna hurt you. You could take the thing off quick as she put it on. And three… please don’t do that? We need to figure out who you are, and what that means for us.”

With perhaps the worst timing on Earth, Fuu sighed, and rubbed her eyes as she sat up, “guys, you won’t believe me but I had the strangest dream…”

Spike laughed, “lemme guess. And you were there, and you were there…”

“Yeah, and you— wait, what?! Why— how— what is going on here? Did we get kidnapped again? Why do I sound like this? How do I know English? And what is that thing?” She pointed wildly at the simple LED lamp above their heads. 

“You did the time warp, I don’t know, cause you got a translator— that’s a two’fer, actually— and that, my friend, is an LED light bulb.”

“Time warp? Talk like a normal human for once,” Faye sighed, “look, something happened and we aren’t sure of it ourselves. Some idiot scientist tried to travel back in time, likely, but instead they dragged you guys forward. So, that brings me to the point. We’re all bounty hunters here, except for that kid you scared off,” she leaned down, eye-to-eye level with Fuu, “but don’t worry. We aren’t going to hand you over.”

“Yeah, you’re only worth 3000 woolongs anyway. That buys you one decent dinner for four... hey, Faye, I changed my mind—”

“You don’t get a say in this, Spiegel.” Faye took off her high heel boot and threw it in his general direction. He knew she always sharpened the points. “Anyway, Jet was saying you might be useful to catch that crooked scientist.”

“Yeah, and if we get our hands on his blueprints? We’re golden. Ed could rework that with some spare parts, you’d get sent back, we’d turn the guy in and get paid. So then,” Jet leaned against the wall, trying not to notice how they only tracked his metal arm, “what can you bring to the table?”

“Fuu can’t do anything besides look pretty and end up as bait,” Mugen waved his hand dismissively, “Me? I’m the best—”

“You should know he’s without any formal training— ugh, damn you.” Jin began, before being roughly elbowed in the stomach. 

“I’m the best swordsman in Japan, decent gambler too, and a great lay to boot. And if anyone has shit to say about that? I’ll fight ‘em. Except Jin, cause I made a dumb promise to find some guy who stinks.” Fuu only pointed at him, mouthing something, and Mugen shoved her hand away like lightning. 

“You two are such children… okay, fine. I’m the best trained swordsman in Japan, then. I would say I was the best samurai too, though I genuinely don’t like to be vain,” Jin sighed, adjusting his glasses, “we’ve taken down many men at once, be they blind maniacs or the guards of various magistrates. I think we could help you, if you repay the favor.”

“And I’m not bad at things!” Fuu huffed, “I just get kidnapped too often! I saved their lives the first time they met me, with fireworks, I swear! Without that distraction, they’d just be heads on pikes.”

The bounty hunters looked at each other, and shrugged. They didn’t have any leads, but they could start looking. Scanning the emails of Doctor Bacchus and Associates, learning who had been to conferences with him, who had seen his speeches. Scientists were like bounty hunters in that way; they ran in packs, and always had connections in unlikely places. 

“That settles it, then,” Jet walked over and leaned his metal hand on the table, “I think we’d be glad to help you, if you’re glad to help us. That does come with a few rules, though,” a grimace came across his face, “we can’t have you killing the guy.”

“So the future's no fun, huh?”

“And you really need to change,” Faye started laughing, “people will think you’re just wearing some offensive Halloween costumes!” 

“Offensive—?”

“Halloween?”

Faye just waved casually as she disappeared into the hallway, “I’ll go raid Spike’s closet, and grab some dresses out of mine. And grab a gun or two while I’m at it. See ya!”

“Hey, don’t touch my stuff!” Huffed the sharpshooter, though he refused to even go after her, “that little… agh, nevermind. While she does that, Jet’ll gather intel. If you got any questions about history, I guess I can answer those. Techs out of the question though, cause Ed’s not coming back down.”

“That annoying kid?”

“Yeah, that annoying kid’s a genius. We’d be royally screwed and even more poor without her, if you can believe that. And she’s probably your ticket home, so try to lay off her.”

“Don’t… oh no,” Fuu began, “don’t tell me you guys are broke too? I wanted to try the food of the future… and I bet you guys have the tastiest stuff too! This sucks!”

“Tell me about it. I haven’t had real meat for a month at least,” Spike groaned, nearly falling into the couch next to Fuu, with her guardians sat across from them on the bench. He yawned, kicked his feet up, and rested his hands behind his head, “so, what do you want to know about the last 300, 400-odd years?” 

Jin opened his mouth, but Spike immediately shushed him. With the strangest look on his face (bordering between disgust and wicked excitement, like he knew the most terrible inside joke) he leaned in close. 

“Wait. Before that, I gotta tell you a quick story. You ever heard of this wannabe Samurai guy named Andy?”


	3. Captive, on the Carousel of Time...

Jin’s face got paler, if that was even possible, “I don’t believe this!” he gasped. Fuu and Mugen gasped too, eyes trained on his usually-solemn countenance. Any time Jin got emotional, any time he gasped… well, that was something to be surprised at, all by itself. 

“No, I’m not. He really did that shit.”

“And he took the name Miyamoto Musashi? The name of one of the most renowned, the most honorable… ugh! The gall of this man, I swear…” Jin’s hand rested uneasily on his swords, “do you have any idea where he is?”

“Nope. I specifically avoid that information at all costs. He has this nasty habit of making a mess of everything.”

“No worries,” Mugen grinned, “Jin’ll make a mess of that jerk the moment he spots him. You should hear the other dumb shit he’s said about honor— Aw, Fuu, we should’ve written it all down! Damn it. It was so good.”

“Fishing is a life and death struggle between man and fish…” she posited, rubbing her chin, pretending to fix an invisible pair of glasses. The sharpshooter nearly spit out his whiskey. 

“Let’s.. let’s just start the history lesson.” Jin shook his head, eyes off to the side. And Spike wouldn’t lie, he was impressed by this guy's restraint. Flicking open the laptop on the table, he pulled up Wikipedia in one tab and some definitely-legal music site in another. He ended up picking Nightcall by Kavinsky (an oldie but a goodie) just to see their faces scrunch up at the robotic vocals. It was kind of hilarious. 

“Okay, okay. Let’s start… uh, there’s actually a [video](https://youtu.be/Mh5LY4Mz15o) here on the webpage. It’s really old, but the view count is impressive.” Spike clicked on it, and leaned back, “let’s try this one, yeah?”

-

_There was really nothing they could do, so they signed a contract that let the United States, Britain and Russia visit Japan any time they want. Chōshu and Satsuma hated this- that sucks, they said, this sucks! And with almost very little outside help, they overthrew the Shogunate, and somehow made the Emperor the Emperor again, and moved him to Edo which they renamed Tokyo. They made a new government, which was a lot more Western—_

-

“Pause!” Fuu yelled, then took a deep breath, “what? They just— that’s how the period ended? There’s no more Shogunate? It all seems so abrupt!”

“I wish I knew more, but I can’t tell you. Or I could, but…” Spike scrolled through the Wikipedia page for the Edo period quickly, quicker than they could read, and closed it, “I’d rather tell you about a future you’ll never have to see, than one you’ll have to experience. That kinda spoils the fun.”

-

_Meanwhile, Japan has been enjoying conquering stuff, and wants more. And the next thing on their list is this part of China, and lots of tiny islands, and all that stuff belongs to Germany—_

-

“Oh, I actually learned about this,” Spike began, “this deals with the First World War.”

“The… the first?”

“You’re tellin’ me there’s multiple World Wars?” Mugen grimaced. 

“Oh. Uh, yeah. Shit. There’s two. There was almost a third but we don’t talk about that,” Spike paused the video and lit up a cigarette, “long story short, all the nations in Europe got pissed cause of an assasination. It wouldn’t have been a big deal, but right around here was the first time since the Industrial Revolution that war could _really_ kick off.”

“Industrial Revolution? Was that an uprising somewhere?” Fuu asked, drawing her knees to her chest. As much as she lived around violence, she could never learn to stomach it. 

“No, it’s the name for when we got railroads, tanks, submarines, planes… lots of new tech. And a lot of new weapons, made crazy fast, for bigger armies. Rifles that could reload and kill like no tomorrow, and the soldiers were generally pretty young...” Spike leaned one elbow on the armrest and sighed, “you know, I kind of… feel bad telling you all about this. The world's a lot crueler now than it was back then.”

-

_And Japan invaded more and more and more and more of China. It was planning to invade the entire East. Then they got mail from Germany, the new leader of Germany, and he had a cool mustache—_

-

“Okay, pause, quick comment. This is about the Second World War, this guy was an asshole with a shitty mustache, and my great grandma would kill me from beyond the grave if I ever forgot to mention that.”

“What did he do?” Fuu looked over at Spike. He didn’t look back at her, not really. 

“He took over nearly all of Europe, rounded up all the people he didn’t like, and killed ‘em. My great grandmother on my moms side— we don’t know anything about her, besides the fact she barely escaped one of those extermination places with her life.”

“What could... what about those people could possibly make him—” Jin began. Spike cut him off, sharp. 

“Ethnicity. Being gay, or being disabled. Religion especially, or at least that’s what it was for my family. Being Jewish.”

“Never heard of that.”

“Makes sense. It’s… it’s like being Christian,” Spike hesitated, “except it’s not like being Christian at all. Less evangelizing. And people want to kill you more, cause they think you run the global economy, or cause stillbirth, or fucking hurricanes or something. And of course, none of that’s true. Hell, I wish I could control the weather. The future is just an obnoxiously cruel place.” 

“Hm,” hummed Fuu, still looking over at Spike, “I really can’t imagine what happened to your family. I don't want you to think I know. But I’ve seen how that makes people feel, to be hated for their religion… and I think that’s just one part of human cruelty we’ll never get rid of.”

Spike looked back at her, and smiled. 

-

_(The sound of a bomb exploding, twice, echoes through the speakers. There is silence.)_

-

There is silence. Spike doesn’t mention radiation sickness. No one asks about the blast radius, no one asks if Hiroshima and Nagasaki rebuilt, or how they did it, or how fast, or if bombs like that were ever dropped again. 

There is simply silence, while Fuu wipes her eyes on her sleeve. 

-

_(And after covering the post-war economic boom, the video abruptly ends.)_

-

Spike coughs. It’s still silent as he mutters, “so, uh, that was up until the early 2000’s.”

Mugen breaks the silence next, his voice rough and monotone, “and they rebuilt, yeah?” 

“Yeah. People lived there, families settled there, there were monuments and parks. The United States would visit for remembrance ceremonies, but I wouldn’t forgive them either. I never really got the formality in all that.” Spike closed the tab, and pulled up a photo of an Astral Gate, “so, things were nice, for a time. But nothing that nice can last forever.”

“You’re not saying—”

“I am. You see this thing? It’s an Astral Gate, they allow for fast, efficient space travel, and the first one was built above Earth in 2022. But it malfunctioned. It took out the moon. And the debris,” he slid the screen with his finger, revealing a satellite image of a devastated Earth, “the debris helped kill 4.7 billion people. That’s more than half of the world's population at that point.”

A pause. 

“....It’s missing.” Jin spoke, a near-whisper. Spike returned a solemn look.

“Yeah. The fallout took out nearly all of Japan. Islands would surface here and there, and people would live there for a while, but nothing ever really stayed. The only islands that’ve stuck it out have been those little ones, the Ryu—”

“...This is bullshit.” Mugen grumbled, refusing to look at anyone, refusing to even look at the screen, “this is all a bunch of _bullshit_ , and I don’t get why it had to happen!”

“No one does.” Spike responded, “but we don’t get to choose what happens, in history. Not people like us. So we do what we can to leave our mark, and say we were here, and to make sure those gluttons in power know exactly how we feel.” 

The silence was broken abruptly, if not awkwardly, by Faye coming down the stairs. Her heels clicked, and filled the living room with their sharp echo. 

“I got some new clothes for you, and some good old pistols!” Faye lifted them up, as if to celebrate somehow, but caught wind of it all pretty quickly. The image of the Astral Gate. How the eyes of the young girl were stinging, and teary, and red. Placing the pile of fabric on the table, she sat down cross legged. The guns remained untouched. “I’m sorry for everything you must have heard. It’s one thing to live with loss, but to know it beforehand… it must be really terrifying for you.”

“It’s... no, what am I saying? It’s not okay at all. It _is_ terrifying,” Fuu began, “but if all we do is sit here and mourn? We’ll never get back home. We’ll never see Edo again, or the ocean, and we’ll never get to Nagasaki. And I think I’d rather go back and see my home fall apart than never see it again... I just really hope we’re able to.”

Her eyes got all teary again, and she furiously wiped at them with the long sleeves of her kimono. Mugen stretched out his leg and poked her foot with his. He was uncharacteristically genuine as he muttered, “hey, Fuu, chin up. I feel the exact same way. You really, really hit the nail on the head there.” 

“Likewise. And doesn’t that say something about your ability to succeed,” Jin began, looking over at her with the thinnest hint of a smile, “that you have finally made us agree?”

Fuu let out a shaky breath, and smiled, “I guess. I just hope you’re right.”

“Two out of three majority says so.” Spike shrugged, “add me, Faye, Jet and certainly Ed, and your self-doubts are way outnumbered. Now come on,” he dug through the clothes and held them out. A leather jacket for Mugen, a button up for Jin, and a pastel pink dress for Fuu, “let’s go see where this bounty takes us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 was fun to write, but I want to disclaim a few things. One is that I was unsure how to write the reaction of the Samurai Champloo team to Japan's future history, but I hope I captured it decently and handled the subject respectfully. Second is that I really like the headcanon that Spike is at least partly Jewish, so I chose to include that. I think I've picked my headcanon hill to die on. As always, comments are super appreciated.


	4. Quantum Leap!

They didn’t change right away. On their way to their respective quarters (Faye’s for Fuu, Spike’s for Jin and Mugen), the former waitress skidded to a stop at the sight of seven beautiful bonsai trees. What caught her eye more was the juxtaposition of Jet carefully tending to one, singing [Smokestack Lightning](https://youtu.be/9Ri7TcukAJ8) as he pruned its leaves with the tiniest of tools. 

“Hey, those look pretty nice!” Fuu smiled. Jet would be lying if he said she didn’t spook him, but thankfully, no harm was done to the plants. He hooked his clippers back onto the wall and waved them all in. 

“No way. They still have bonsai trees in the future?” Mugen poked at a tiny juniper with his pinky. Jet slapped his hand away, “hey, what gives?”

“Did you know that there are three things that keep me sane on this ship?” Jet crossed his arms, counting on one hand, “that’s blues, smokes, and these funky little trees.”

“You’d be shocked and disgusted by what he’d do to keep ‘em safe.” Spike nudged Mugens shoulder. The vagabond looked back at him in agreement, nudging Jin. Jin, slightly confused, nudged Faye. She just stared him down and stepped inside. 

“So, any new intel?” The gambler leaned over Jet’s shoulder, prodding at the screen. 

“I’d show you if you took your hand off my damn computer,” he grumbled, “but here’s what we got. Ed cross-referenced the staff of Bacchus and Associates, the memberships of APS, and the IP addresses of folks who’ve seen Bacchus’ speeches. Zeroed in on folks studying quantum mechanics, and found this trio right here,” Jet pulled up an image of three professors, their names listed below. Two men and a woman. 

“Doctors Anish Sadhu, Berthold Weber and Gracia Abril...” Spike read. They all seemed so tired. The same under eye bags, the same tired smile on each of them. Only two things can really break a person like that: a life of crime, or a life in academia. In the lower corner rested another, smaller image. “Hey, who’s the last nerd?”

“That’s Natasha Wilson, she’s a TA at SIT. And if I’m guessing right, then these three took her on for more than a simple research project,” Jet flicked at the screen, swiping through multiple photos. Copper and electric blue wires crossed wildly, cylinders within cylinders within neon-cyan cooling chambers, traced by impossibly detailed coils and resistors. Quantum computers. Huge ones. 

“They’d been working on a project concerning the Quantum Zeno Effect, a weird contradiction where a watched particle never decays,” Jet flicked the screen again, revealing an image of the Doctors at an APS conference, “now, back in the 2010’s, IBM made a particle actually un-decay. Age backward, some real Benjamin Button shit. And Abril’s team wanted to see if that could be sustained, and if particles interacting with matter in the past could affect the present.”

“What? Let me get this straight, without the jargon,” Spike began, “these guys wanted to time travel by proxy?”

“I know, it’s pretty clever. No risk of bodily harm, no becoming your own grandpa. Thing is, they didn’t know how to tell the quantons to start decaying again. They didn’t know how to speed it all back up to the present, and most of all, they couldn’t control how many particles they sent back. There was a chain reaction. So the energy kept building, until it finally reversed, and dragged three-people’s worth of matter back with it. And superposition is a bitch, so they had no idea where the ‘results’ would show up.” 

“Are you sure this translation thing is running right?” Mugen dug his pinky into his ear, “cause you’re speaking some utter bullshit right now.”

“Well, it’s quantum mechanics… so that’s pretty much the same thing, yeah.”

“What’s this mean for us?” Fuu asked. 

“It means we have a target now. The thing is, you wouldn’t store something like this at a university lab. It’s too fragile, probably illegal. You’d store it in a warehouse, some place under lock and key. Luckily,” Jet smirked, pulling up one of Natasha’s social media accounts, “the TA is sloppy with her privacy. She seems to have an interest in the Alba City bar scene, and especially decade themed joints. 1950’s, 1960’s, you name it, she’s been there. If we’re able to track her down, we should be able to get the info we need, and a ring of keys to seal the deal.”

“Shit, that was easy.”

“You didn’t do anything!”

“Yeah,” Spike shrugged, “why did you think I said it was easy?”

“That’s… oh, nevermind. The point is, we’re headed for Alba City in a day or two, once the weekend hits. We can chat logistics more later, but I’m figuring it’ll amount to catching Natasha alone, or pick pocketing any and all keys off her person. In the meantime, I’d get some rest. I don’t know if time travel causes jet lag, but I wouldn’t risk it.”

Faye nodded, and left with Fuu, immediately bombarded by a host of science questions she’d never be able to answer. Spike just asked Mugen and Jin to head to his quarters (down the hall, up the stairs, round the corner to the right) so he could get a spare word in with Jet. 

It was all silent for a moment, save footsteps echoing down the metal hallways, before Spike spoke those five words that Jet never, ever liked to hear. 

“So, I have an idea,” Spike closed the door to the bonsai room and leaned awkwardly against it, “just don’t shoot it down right away.”

“You’re testing me with that. But go ahead.” 

“I was thinking we could land a couple days early in Alba and bum around. We can scrape up some money, maybe take those three to a show or something. Or someplace in the red light district for the guys. They deserve to see what the future is really like.”

“Hm. I get the second one, and you know I’m all for a night on the town,” Jet leaned in close to the bonsai he was clipping, pruning the edges carefully, “but since when are you into theatre?” 

“Oh, I’m not. Except for [Cell Block Tango](https://youtu.be/qrrz54UtkCc?t=6m19s), and that’s a hill I’ll die on,” Spike sighed, imagining the violent song and scantily clad actresses. The look in his eyes was almost comically dreamy. 

Jet put down the clippers and leaned back, shooting his partner a knowing grin, “aw, snap out of it, Major Tom. You’re just trying to convince me, aren’t you?”

“Come _on_ Jet. Tell me you don’t want to see Chicago live. Look me in the face and say that.”

“Tell _me_ how you’re going to scrounge up the woolongs, and then we’ll talk.”

“See, I have an idea for that too,” the sharpshooter began with a hesitant tone, “but you seem really, really keen on making this difficult for me.”

“Difficult for you? Quit moping.”

“Look,” Spike stretched his arms over his head and sauntered over, hopping up on the edge of the counter, “I got this all planned out— oh, cool your jets, Jet. I’m not going to knock over your damn plants.”

“Not risking it.” The elder bounty hunter shook his head with furrowed brows, and scrambled for two tiny elms, setting them far, far away. He also muttered something to them in a loving voice, and Spike laughed until Jet elbowed him in the knee. Child’s play. 

“I’m thinking about it like this. Ed can get a DJ job, since she’s been making a racket with that launchpad anyway. That’s one and done,” Spike lifted his index finger, counting it with his opposite hand, “and then there’s Faye, which as we both know, can win us some cash.”

“Her and that goddamned bracelet.”

“Yeah, let’s hope Alba’s not into strip poker. Anyway, that’s two. For us, I’d say we could take out some small fries. Maybe break out my old bass guitar and do some street performing. You can sing, right?”

“I ain’t a star, Spike. But I know my history.”

“Well, consider it. That’s like... two and a half, I think. And those other three seem real seasoned at the game too. The girl told me they’re just as broke as we are! They’ve had jobs at vending stalls before, street performers, as janitors at some shrine…” Spike started counting on his other hand, and sighed, “fuck me, I lost count.”

“Two and a half.”

“That’s five and a half then. Or maybe three and a half. I’m unsure if they all count as one. But you get the picture. We can make it work.”

Jet paused for a second, either grimacing or deep in thought. He looked over at Spike, who somehow managed to sarcastically bat his eyelashes, and elbowed him in the knee again— okay, that one hurt. 

“...Fine. I’ll set a course for Alba City. I just don’t know why I try with you, sometimes.”

“You won’t regret it!”

“I already am!” Jet groaned, but Spike was already out the door, and headed to his quarters. 

-

“So how do the clothes fit?” Spike knocked on the door and walked in anyway, to a memorable scene. Jin was in the button up and dress pants he’d been given, posing in various stances, throwing kicks and slices to test the fabric’s stretch. Meanwhile, Mugen was braced against the wall, practically trapped in a pair of skinny jeans. 

“They fit like a sword to the gut!” He groaned, only struggling harder, “who decided these should exist? It’s like my dick can’t breathe!”

“It’s been like this for ten minutes.” 

“Yeah, I know, Captain Obvious!”

“He won’t let me help him out of them,” Jin scolded, spinning his sword back into position to resheathe it, “and what was your reason, again?”

“I’m not a queer, and I’m not letting a prissy-ass like you touch me.”

“Is that right?” Spike raised an eyebrow toward Jin. The ronin just sighed, and went to wipe his glasses. 

“What that _is_ , is none of your business. I’m attracted to women, and Mugen knows. We can simply leave it at that.”

“Ooh, I touched a nerve. No matter, it’s fine by me. I’m afraid you’re stuck in the denim though, cause I’d swing a sword both ways.”

“What? You?!”

“Have fun getting out of the pants!” The bounty hunter sang, waving, walking away. Mugen just grumbled. He wasn’t one to surrender to anything, but these would sooner rip his skin off than come off on their own… he’d give it ten more minutes. Tops. 

To his chagrin, Mugen didn’t have that kind of time. Spike paused in the hallway, tugging out a small communicator the size of a quarter. He slipped it into his ear with ease. “Hey, Ed. You read me?”

“Like a comic book! Over!” The teen cheered. 

“Good. Uh, sorry Mugen called you all that stuff. I know that you’ve heard Faye, Jet and me say way worse—”

“Spike-person is a hypocrite!”

“—But I never said we’d be good role models. Now, all that being said… I would like to purchase a prank.”

“A-ha! Apology accepted, Spike-person! And what is your payment for the almighty Prank Master?”

“I’ll binge watch that old 2000’s show with you. Boondocks, right?”

“My prices are steep-steep-steeper!”

“Uh… I can’t say it’ll be good, but I can cover bass on that track you’re writing?”

“Two strikes, Spikes! One more plate for your home-home-run!”

“That’s not how baseball— y’know what, nevermind,” Spike rested his head in his hand, and parted his fingers to stare at the floor, “I guess I can teach you how to shoot a pistol. But we’re only practicing on dummies, y’got that?” 

“Loud and clear! So!” He could hear a crash of materials and empty soda cans as Ed scrambled for her laptop, “what prank dost thou wish to play? The Prank Master Ed will find a way!” 

“I was thinking, about Mugen’s earpiece… I’m calling a code VT.” 

“Color?”

“Black.”

“Ooh!” Ed squealed, “black, black, for pay-payback! And you’re doing this all for Ed?”

“Yup,” Spike nodded, popping the ‘p’ noise, a little too proud of himself, “that, and Mugen’s stuck in a pair of jeans right now. He’s gonna look like a whole damn idiot, and I—” he tapped the third button on his suit, “—am gonna get a video.”

“Wow, the best present in my near, near future! And now, on the order of one Spike-person Spiegel,” Ed rubbed her hands together with excitement, “a heavy blast from the past, coming to a vagabond near you!”

From outside his room, he heard Mugen yell out a string of curses. It made his entire goddamn week. A peek in, and Mugen was clawing at his head, angrily trying to remove an earpiece he couldn’t seem to find. Even without the piece, it was obvious. Hell, you could hear it from the hallway. 

Ed had maxed out the reverb, maxed out the volume, and was blasting [black metal](https://m.youtube.com/watch?feature=youtu.be&t=1m34s&v=-ZENtivAi6I) from an ancient cassette straight into Mugen’s ears. And then, she turned off the localized gravity. Without magnetic boots, the ronin and renegade went _flying._

“As soon as I get my sword back, I’m going to kill you! Twice!” Mugen growled, trying and failing to boost himself back to the bed, where his weapon lay vulnerable, “Jin, help a guy out!”

The ronin kept one hand on his swords, one braced on a desk drawer, and didn’t respond at all. He just looked over at Spike, and nodded appreciatively. As if to say, you’ve done it. You’ve got an opening. 

“Wow, it must _really_ suck that you don’t have steel toed magnet boots like mine. Y’know, the kind that could kick your dick clean off your body?” Spike shrugged, stomping on the metal floor, even as his jacket floated upwards, “it also sucks that the only guy who can turn the gravity back on is ambisextrous, huh? Really fucking sucks for you.”

“Ugh! How can I even hear you over this racket?!”

“Cause I got a friend behind the scenes, who’s got all the acoustics balanced… hey, Ed, you seeing this?” Spike whispered into the receiver. All he heard was wild laughter, _screaming_ laughter, and knowing Ed? He took that as a definite yes. “Anyway, I can turn the gravity back on. I can help you out of those pants. All you gotta do is apologize to Ed.”

“You’re really still on about that? Get off my dick!”

“Trust me, I don’t wanna be anywhere near your dick. You aren’t my type,” he lit up another cigarette, “just come on, Mugen! It’s probably the easiest thing you’ve done in your life. Just say you’re sorry, you big baby.”

Mugen muttered something inaudible. The music just got louder.

“Okay! Fuckin’ fine! I’m sorry for snapping at the genius kid! Now for the love of the Kami, make the ground work again!” 

And just like that, Ed flipped the switch. Mugen landed as he always did: like a cat, hunched, but steady on his feet. Of course, the jeans were still sitting around his thighs, loose pant legs dangling behind. It wasn’t a great look. 

Spike just walked over, grabbed both of the loose pant legs, and tugged harshly. In one rough movement, the skinny jeans soared across the room, even under the weight of simulated gravity. Mugen rubbed his rug-burned shins. 

“Now that wasn’t so bad, was it?” 

-

After much deliberation, Mugen ended up in a pair of Tripp pants. Spike nearly ripped the damn things in half when they were pulled— he bought those in a very, very bad state of mind— but the vagabond refused to let them go for three main reasons. _They’re baggy, the chains are badass, and they let my junk breathe!_ Spike took one look at the pants, and resigned himself to never understanding their appeal. 

Rounding the corner towards Faye’s quarters, they overheard a conversation between her and Fuu, muffled over the fumbling of fabric. 

“And what’s this white thing?”

“Oh, that. See, it’s not safe to bind your chest with bandages. It damages your ribs. Don’t you notice the indents in your skin?”

“Yeah,” Fuu sheepishly sighed, “they can hurt sometimes.”

“How long do you wear ‘em for, normally?”

“Hm, it depends. I take it off when I bathe, but it’s not like we bathe everyday. And travelling with two guys, without much privacy… I usually end up sleeping in it.”

“See, that’s a habit you need to break,” Faye dug through the pile of fabric on her bed, “and that’s why I got this from Ed. She’s letting you have one of her training bras.”

Mugen broke out cackling, swinging his head around the doorframe. Fuu, only just slipping on the bra, crossed her arms over her chest immediately. He could see Faye reach for her gun too, but being himself, Mugen didn’t see any reason to stop. 

“Damn, Fuu. I knew you were flat as a board, but I didn’t know you had to _train_ to get tits!”

“It’s a turn of phrase,” Faye scolded, “and I’m getting tired of you messing with the women on this ship. First Ed, now Fuu.”

“Aw, Fuu’s not even from here—”

“Don’t give me that,” she stepped in front of the younger woman, giving her enough privacy to change, “you’re on the Bebop, so you’re part of the Bebop crew. And I’m _sick_ and _tired_ of dealing with men who talk about women’s bodies like they’re some kind of contraption to make sense of. Also, Fuu’s what, fifteen? She’s developing fine for her age. So lay off her, got it?”

Mugen just gritted his teeth, muttered something about how Faye’s uptight nature matched her shorts, and walked off. Spike and Jin peeked their heads in next, the bounty hunter covering both their eyes. 

“I take it that you’re decent?”

“Uh, yeah.” Fuu smoothed out the dress, climbing off the bed. She had her kimono on too, but open, like a loose cardigan. Spike took his hands from their eyes, and shot her a thumbs up. Jin, a little lost, copied him. “Ah, you’re too kind. I can’t say these pumps are comfortable, though. They kinda hurt my feet.”

“Well, they look nice— you see Mugen,” Spike nagged, “that’s how you compliment a chick!”

“I told you to get off my dick!”

“Oh, shut up,” Faye snapped, “you look like someone cut you out of a J-fashion magazine from 2018, and pasted you 60 years later, old crusty glue included.”

Then all at once, the ship jerked forward, and the uninitiated crew fell back sharply. Fuu caught herself on the bed, Jin caught himself on Spike’s shoulder, and Mugen went ass over teakettle. 

“Have we been attacked?” Jin asked, peering out of the tiny window in Faye’s room, hand on his swords as always. Spike went to help Mugen up, shaking his head. 

“Nah. But you know those Astral Gate things I mentioned?”

“That whole mess?”

“Yeah. We’re inside one of them right now. Hyperspace. And y’know where we’re headed?” The bounty hunter looked back at Fuu and Jin, a smirk plastered on his face, “cause I got three words for you.”

“And what’re those, smartass?”

Spike just sauntered into Faye’s room, tugged up the blinds, and let darts of light spark across the cold metal of her quarters, let relativistic speed bathe them all in a flashing light. 

“Alba City. Mars.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I included some music here in the fic! I wasn’t sure how to incorporate the feeling of how Cowboy Bebop and Samurai Champloo are heavily inspired by (and rely on) music, but this is the closest I can get. I hope to keep doing this in future chapters too! As always, comments are super appreciated.


	5. The Tale of Mugen and Jin!

The next few minutes were an excited rush as everyone got their things together. Fuu tucked Momo into a shimmery silver purse filled with seeds. Jet double checked if Alba had any jurisdiction set against swords (it didn’t) which cleared the air for Mugen and Jin. Ed packed up her launchpad, Faye grabbed her bracelet, and Spike filled the living room with the catchy bass riff of Disco Inferno. Those lessons from VT were really paying off. 

As they walked over to the hangar, Jin tapped Ed on the shoulder. “You’re the one who gave us these, right?” The ronin pointed to behind his ear, tracing the shape of the translator. When Ed nodded back with a cheery smile, he returned the gesture and leaned down to mutter, “don’t repeat this, but it was very amusing to watch Mugen struggle.”

“You should be proud,” Fuu added, sandwiching Ed between them, “the last time I saw Jin this happy was him running toward a brothel.”

“I… I was just getting a backrub.”

“So that’s what folks call it nowadays? Sure,” Mugen laughed and eyed his colorful sneakers, coming up from behind, “what’re you guys talking about anyway?”

“We were just—”

“It’s really nothing—”

“Quit testin’ Ed! Ed didn’t do nothing! Ed doesn’t have to tell you nothing! Ed is on the good side of the law!”

Before Mugen could respond that something was _obviously_ being concealed here (and really badly at that), Spike opened up the hangar door and gestured widely with both arms. He even spun around for show. A neon metropolis was lit up in front of them from across a mirror-like river, bending buildings and signs into beautiful, shimmering fractals. They reflected off the bass guitar strapped to his back. 

“So,” he flicked his cigarette into the water, “who’s ready to go make some cash?”

Everyone groaned in unison. 

-

 **THE TALE OF MUGEN AND JIN:** with the rest of the crew occupied, the two renegades are sent off on their own. Will they manage to make money in a world that’s lost all understanding of honor, sacrifice, and over the top sword duels?

-

The ronin and the vagrant picked a random street and walked. It wasn’t like they had anything else to do; Spike and Jet stopped on the bridge, Faye ran off with Fuu, and Ed refused to acknowledge Mugen’s existence. So they picked a random street, walked, and tried to ignore how the neon billboards burnt into their eyes. 

“Buncha idiots, what do they expect us to do? We got no cash, no map, we got _no_ idea of what’ll get our teeth kicked in around here— and I’m not saying we can’t handle that.”

“Of course. I am a bit confused, though,” Jin glanced over at his unfortunate partner, “since when have you cared about social norms?”

“Oh, I don’t,” Mugen defended, “and I’m not sayin’ I do, but listen. If there’s anything we can both agree on, it’s that kicking ass and taking names works best when you know your opponent. Even a little.”

“I wouldn’t use those exact words, but yes.”

“And back home, at least I vaguely knew what stick you samurai had up your asses! Here, I don’t know what the gangs even look like. I don’t know if they got lightning guns, or ones that could melt a sword clean in half—”

“Please don’t say things like that.” Jin pleaded. 

“—I don’t even know what’s good in terms of food!” Mugen stretched his arms behind his head, whining as holographic ads for holographic idols floated idly by, “honestly? I’m thinking of just nabbing one of those street artist’s cups and heading for the red light district. That’s gotta be something that doesn't change with the times, right? And we can make some cash after I get my rocks off.”

Jin was, expectedly, still lost in his sea of thought, only muttering a soft ‘ _hm’_ or a brief ‘ _I see’_ under his breath.

“Hey, are you listening to me?”

“Sadly,” Jin sighed, “and the way you're talking… you’re not getting a job. You’ll just look for bounties. But as Spike put it, even street sweeping pays more reliably.” The ronin effortlessly kicked a soda can into his hand to demonstrate, but Mugen snatched it and tossed it far behind them immediately, where it landed on some poor civilian's head. And there it was, the ‘ _what the hell is wrong with you’_ look. The ‘ _Jin’s neutral face of displeasure’_ look. Mugen stuck his tongue out in reply. 

“Why’re you acting so surprised? The only job I got recently was cleaning up that shrine, and I broke like half the shit in there. Plus, c’mon Jin,” he pressed, “is this really what you wanna do with your time here?”

“I… suppose you’re right, with that first point. I don’t know what I was expecting, since I’ve never known you to be a functioning member of society.”

“Wow, thanks.”

“But if you’re going to take from those musicians, then remember what’s in those cups is spare change. We need quite a bit more for Spike’s plans, and even more should you choose to visit a brothel.”

“Ugh, just spit it out already!”

“It’s very simple, Mugen. Can’t you count? Instead of one, take three. Five. Maybe even ten.”

The crowd of angry buskers lost their trail after no less than three city blocks. 

-

“Are you kidding me?” The doorwoman exclaimed, “that’s chump change. I don’t know where you’re from, but you’re not booking one of _our_ guys or girls with money like that. This isn't a roadside motel.”

“Ah, I see. Just a moment,” Jin spoke respectfully, before turning himself and Mugen around to mutter, “what the hell were we thinking…”

“I can’t believe we didn’t ask the Bebop crew what’s worth what.”

“Should we assume it’s one ryo to one woolong, or one ryo to ten woolongs? One ryo to one hundred seems a tad too steep…”

“I don’t think this is the time to do mental math, smartass, I think it’s the time to scrounge up s’more cash. I don’t care _how_ much Spike needs, I’m getting a future chick to blow me.”

“For the love of... you are the most ridiculous, the most _crass—_ ”

“Ahem,” the doorwoman cleared her throat, breaking through the rush of their whispered conversation, “if you can’t pay, I’ll have to ask you to leave. There are other cl— hey! Watch… watch it…?”

A young woman, only half-dressed and barely decent, stumbled out from the hall and right into the greeter, gripping her arm from which a sleeve was torn. There was a perfect square of skin missing on her bicep, exposing yellow, fatty tissue and bloody flesh.

“Oh my god, are— are you okay?” The doorwoman asked, guiding the injured client to sit down. Mugen just leaned over to Jin and whispered ‘ _women go to brothels now?!’_

“He pulled a fucking knife on me.” She cried, shivering, “that escort with the watch, I went in and as soon as—“

“Save it for your diary,” Mugen interrupted, “what’s the guy look like?”

“Uh… long brown hair. Gold watch. He had a purple dress shirt, his tie was loose and the- the first few buttons were down— and can’t you just call the hospital already?”

Jin leaned back, doing a full sweep of the narrow street, and vocally called out for a medical professional. When none replied he solemnly spoke, “I’m sorry, but you may need to travel. I don’t see anyone capable of helping you here.”

“Oh my God, when I said _call—_ ”

“Don’t see the watch guy either... does this place have a back door?” Mugen peered through the warmly lit hallway, half aroused, half ready to fight. Could be called the same thing. When the greeter hesitantly confirmed his suspicion, he elbowed Jin and bolted, “well, there’s our job. Let’s go. And this brothel’s paying us back when we find the fucker!”

“Excuse me?!”

Mugen shouted his lungs empty as they ran, rounding the corner sharply. His voice echoed through alleyways and turned heads from down the street, as he boldly, loudly demanded: “I’m counting on a free trial, lady!”

-

The chase was familiar, but the terrain was not. Even the bustling city of Edo was nothing compared to Alba, with its labyrinthine alleyways, fire escapes and underground tunnels. You could dip into a building, take the wrong stairwell and end up on the other side of town. 

It appeared their bounty and resident creep did just that, trying to lose them in the red-lit, ambient warmth of the pleasure district. Mugen and Jin tracked him through alleys, into a glitzy hotel, down a stairwell and into the darkened pedway. It was mostly empty, considering the workday was long over. The faceless suits had already retired to their monotonous lives, and would once again return in the morning. 

“Turn around and let me kick your ass, you speedy bastard!” Mugen yelled between panting breaths. The black and white tiles on the wall flew past him so quickly, they blurred into a shifting gray. 

“This isn’t an ordinary person,” Jin responded, “money like that, speed like this… he must be trained in evasion,” they took a sharp right, “he must be a middleman.”

“I don’t care what he is, the damn guy’s mocking me now! Get back here!” 

The stranger took a sharp left in the pedway, toward one of Alba’s many chromed-out bullet trains. An electronic, welcoming tone rang out as he slid his watch across a touchscreen, gaining entrance to the turnstile. 

“Oh, and he has manners!” Mugen threw his arms out wide in anger, carelessly shoving a midnight beggar out of his path, “ain’t he a fucking charmer?”

“...What _is_ that thing?”

“No idea, but we’re sure as hell playing follow the leader here.”

“I’m surprised you’re even _willing_ to follow,” Jin panted, “considering it’s shape—” 

“Look, d’ya wanna make money or not? I don’t _care_ how suggestive it looks, and I don’t care about your stupid jokes. We’re passing that checkpoint and boarding that thing.”

Jin nodded firmly, a little amused with himself. The two of them gracefully split from their in-line running, each prepared to jump his own turnstile. However, when they did, two slim robotic arms shot out from the ground and grabbed them by their legs. 

“You have not paid the toll, dear customer,” a robotic voice kindly echoed, “please slide your Alba Railcard over the scanner, or place your credit card into the slot for a one-way ticket.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me!” Mugen struggled, the metal around his ankles tightening like shackles. It restrained him from jumping, kicking or windmilling his way out of the situation. It looked like the sword was coming out. 

Drawing his weapon, he spun it for momentum and aimed for the left arm. Neither one chipped, but neither one left a dent either. It was utterly useless. 

“Please do not get violent, dear customer, or we may need to call the station guard on duty! Again, please either slide your Railcard over the scanner, or offer alternative payment.” The robotic voice sweetly reminded them. Distantly, the vagrant and ronin could hear a gentle chime echo from the platform, mocking them as well. Of _course_ they were standing clear of the doors, damn recording. Jin fumbled through his messenger bag. 

“I have no idea how to use this accurately,” He murmured, pulling out the 9mm Faye had gifted him, “but it seems our archaic methods won’t work. Forgive me in advance.” 

Far more than the four required shots rang out, as Jin struggled to aim correctly for the metallic arms and not his nor Mugen’s legs. The accuracy on this damn thing was so much more narrow than a sword, but eventually he got it. The cracking wires of the robotic arms sparked as he and Mugen broke into a run, after the train. It had just taken off, their window shrinking, when their already limited composure was disturbed by an explosion from behind. One of the artificial arms went flying onto the track, lighting up as it short-circuited on the electrified line. The vagrant, the idiot, jumped right after it. 

“The third rail!” Jin gasped, tugging on Mugen’s leather jacket, the two nearly being bowled over onto the tracks, “you saw that… that _things_ arm land there! Are you trying to die?”

“If that’s what it takes to get laid around here!” Mugen smacked Jin’s hand away, jumping and landing on the second rail. He broke into a sprint despite the new train-light looming behind them, pouncing cat-like onto the rear car and shouting, “grab my hand, y’slowpoke!”

Jin would have shot him back some unamused look (and asked him to please refrain from the dick talk) but the train behind him was gaining fast. Jumping, he grasped Mugen’s fingers barely, the vagrant's other arm coming down to grab his wrist. Jin swung himself gracefully onto the top of the car, his black hair blowing in the wind… before hitting the deck sharply. The tunnel wall above him left scratches across his cheek, rubbing it red, raw and slightly bloody. Yet, it came with an advantage. His gaze pierced through the tiniest crack in the chassis, allowing him to track their target. 

“The… the bastard is resting between the cars,” he muttered, “where they link. He’s not in a car, Mugen… I think he’s going to jump.”

“Shit, shit. Okay. I’m gonna tug you down, man, let’s hope that shirt ain’t a rental.”

A thin, bony hand wrapped around his ankle and all at once, Jin was tugged harshly downward. His head smacked against the back banister and his glasses were left scuffed, not to mention the skid marks across the back of his shirt. Mugen just backed up against the rear door, peeking around the corner. Jin did the same once his head stopped spinning, on the opposite side. All bases were covered between them. 

“When he jumps, whoever is on that side grabs the other one and follows suit, yeah?”

“Sounds like a decent plan.” 

A few stations passed, casting shimmering and liminal light across their faces as they hid from the rare station guard and passerby. Jin caught the edge of their target’s dress shoes and grabbed Mugen by the wrist a few minutes in. There was no light ahead but a blinking, red exit sign, likely powered by a dying generator. 

It was then they jumped. 

Mugen and Jin hit the platform of the long-abandoned station with a somersault, kicking up dust. Their target, skidding on his knees from the impact, backed up against a rotting mural on the wall. The man drew his gun with more confidence than Jin ever could, and the ronin immediately decided that firing back would be foolish. They would handle this the old fashioned way. 

They came at him from both sides. This was a fault of modern weaponry; force over finesse. A separation between the man and his fighting tool. Even Mugen knew he couldn’t move in contrast with his sword, or rely on it’s sharpness alone. If his movements didn’t complement the sword’s own strength, he would be dead in a ditch somewhere by now. Same with Jin, he assured himself. Same with anyone. 

The mystery man went to evade and fight dirty in the process, somersaulting while shooting at their feet. Jin swiftly dodged while Mugen kicked off the wall, launching himself toward the target. A bullet scuffed the metallic underside of his shoe, knocking it back into Jin’s face. 

“How many times must a grown man be told to shower...” he muttered, pulling out a small dagger (additionally from Faye) and throwing it with finesse. It pinned the man’s suit to the tile floor’s aging caulk, but Mugen was already on top of him as he fell, delivering a swift slice to his arm. Blood spilled out across the discolored floor, the man groaning like he’d never been in a sword fight before. It was only after that thought crossed his mind that Jin realized it made _sense._ He also realized that meant the man was likely going into shock; that they couldn’t get any information out of him now. 

“You dimwitted— Mugen,” the ronin sighed, almost a tad too casually considering the man writhing in pain at their feet. “Jet told us not to kill anyone. We had one job.”

“He’s not dead! Just badly injured and not used to getting stabbed. And having trouble breathing. Don’t worry man, this bad boy makes a clean cut,” he squatted down, going through the stranger’s suit jacket, “and once some conductor spots you, you'll be fine, so I’m taking this as compensation.” He then pulled out a wad of ~~W~~ 10,000 woolong bills, and his eyes went wide. Very, very wide. Jin gazed over his shoulder. 

“That’s… a lot of zeroes. People don’t normally carry that kind of cash.”

“That ain’t all. Check out this gold thing— this must be the watch. You could sell this, make a fucking _fortune._ ” Mugen tugged it off the creep as he gasped for air, turning it over in his hand. There was a neon blue screen that moved when he touched it, and for a second, it was like Mugen was a cat after a laser pointer. Then Jin snatched it, stashing it away in his pocket. He pressed a hand out before the vagabond could protest. 

“Don’t even try, Mugen, this isn’t the time. You can play with this contraption once we’re in the clear and find the others.”

“Oh, no worries,” the vagrant responded, flipping through the thick wad of cash by the light of the emergency sign, “I have something else I’m thinkin’a playing with already...”

-

Jin decided to visit a local bookstore while Mugen got lucky at the brothel, and managed to find some reprinted comics in Japanese. He ended up buying a volume of Uzumaki, and all they had of Vagabond ( _it's about Miyamoto Musashi,_ he thought, trying to justify the exorbitant sum). He visited a fast food place and a gaming store too, before Mugen even caught up with him. A chessboard went clattering to the floor upon his graceless arrival. 

“Holy _shit_ , that was hot,” the vagrant laughed, running his hands through his cowlicked hair, pressing a finger against the hickey on his neck, “I don’t know what she did to me, Jin—”

“Please spare me the details.”

“—But they use electricity for fucking everything here, man. _Everything._ ” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Might not be the best, but I did just get my wisdom teeth out. I decided to do some little vignettes on how each of the characters scrounges up some money for Spike’s ideal night on the town, and here’s the first one! Note also that woolongs act more like yen than USD, meaning they find a massive wad of 100 dollar bills if we’re talking USD. As always, comments are appreciated.


	6. The Tale of Faye and Fuu!

**THE TALE OF FAYE AND FUU:** finally free of the men, Faye throws all regard for cash to the wind, and attempts a girls night out! But when disaster strikes, will they be able to gamble their way into a bill, and out of the slammer?

-

“You _sure_ you’ll stay outta trouble?” Jet shouted after Faye, the sarcasm in his voice thicker than Alba City’s smog. Faye didn’t respond with words, just waved her hand dismissively, not even bothering to look back. Her bracelet jangled with the motion, telling Jet he’d have to take her word for it— she'd be fine! Besides, she had more important things to worry about. 

Things like Fuu, mesmerized by the city lights on the water. The girl was bent so far over the bridge that one push could land her in the drink. Wasn't like they ever cleaned the river. Things like Mugen, too, sticking his elbow out and pretending to smack her in the rear to send her over. He gave Jin this look— the sort where you’re expecting someone to laugh— but of course, that didn’t happen. Jin didn’t laugh back. Jin didn’t do much of anything. Faye wondered what it must be like to travel with anyone remotely quiet. 

“Hey, tall-dark-and-blind,” she called out, waving her hand vaguely in a circle, “is this a samurai thing?”

“...I don’t understand.”

“Man, you must be a _drag_ to travel with. I hate having a dog on board as much as the next woman but at least they entertain you.”

“Are all women in the future such bitches?” Mugen snapped. 

“Were all men in the past pulled from textbooks? Come on, Fuu,” she dragged the younger girl along by the sleeve, “let’s hit the town already.”

“Hey, you’re supposed ta be making money!” The vagrant yelled after them, turning heads. In her periphery, she saw Jin smack him on the head and mouth _‘you’re not one to talk’_. And with the city lights reflecting in her sunglasses, Faye Valentine smiled. 

Finally, a free night. 

-

Expectedly, Faye didn’t hit the casinos first. She knew herself well enough that a few hours plus a bit of luck would be enough, and she wasn’t about to waste her precious time. The longer you stay in one of those places, the higher your risk of blowing it. 

So she took Fuu down to some main shopping district, with streets named after old US states and billboards on every corner. She even let her try a cigarette. 

“I… I can’t explain it,” Fuu coughed, “but this makes me feel tall. This is— this is something Mugen would say,” she looked into the shimmering city lights, “but I feel a little bad assed!”

“It’s one word,” the gambler laughed, “god, you have _no_ idea how long it’s been since I hung out with another woman, one-on-one. It’s refreshing to have someone to actually sympathize with. Doesn’t it get tiring travelling with men all the time?”

“Oh, I could complain about that forever,” Fuu whined in response, hands clasped in her kimono, worn cardigan-style, “don’t they always yell about the most meaningless things?”

“Everyday! And aren’t their hygiene habits just the worst? Spike uses his soap as shampoo— not two different products!— which is a total social faux-pas nowadays. I’m sick and tired of picking curly green hairs out of the soap.”

“Oh, that’s gross! Mugen doesn’t bathe on purpose, so Jin has to wrestle him into the river every so often. He nearly split his head open once,” Fuu mused, “Jin, though? Jin’s actually pretty meticulous about hygiene. He tells me to scrub under my nails, and sometimes I think he actually checks.”

“Okay, okay, we’ll head in somewhere, but I have just _one_ more question about that guy,” Faye leaned in to whisper, “is he _naturally_ like that? You wouldn’t know this, but people have a really narrow idea of Samurai these days. Jin seems like he was torn right out of a textbook!”

“Uh… yeah. That’s just how he is, I think.”

“Does he also have a dark, mysterious past?” The gambler nudged Fuu, who just swallowed and looked away, sweating. Faye shook her head with an incredulous grin, tutting softly, “I won’t ask if you won’t tell, but don’t let the guy hear what he’s been reduced to, okay? We don’t need blood on our hands, his or the big Film Buffs.”

“Mm, I don’t think Jin would commit seppuku, and not just cause he doesn’t have all that ritual stuff I’ve heard about,” Fuu followed Faye through the turning door of a palace-sized, multi-level department store, “after all, if Jin dies, he’d forfeit kicking Mugen’s ass.”

They stepped into a chromed-out, glass-windowed shopping mall, with [mesmerizing music](https://youtu.be/0d-lttbObeU) playing through the speakers. Shoppers came and went here and there; mothers with children, groups of teens, women that looked like supermodels. There were even a few women dressed as Geisha, which sparked Fuu’s interest. 

“Hey, what’s up with that?” Fuu pointed, “they’re dressed super traditional. Maybe we weren’t the only ones who got all quantum-whatevered here!”

“Nah, if there were more people, we would’ve heard about it,” Faye dismissed, “but I remember reading in Vogue there’s been a cultural renaissance of Earthling fashions from before the Incident. There’s people in everything from Geisha get-ups to those old dresses with the hoops, but it’s all just fashion for fashion's sake.”

“Hm.. y’know, one time Jin had to dress up as a Geisha.”

“What?!” Faye choked. 

“It’s a weird story! What I meant to say is that I know a bit about Geisha. We got wrapped up in a town’s politics one time, and long story short, I got acquainted with quite a few in a brothel. So I’m thinking, let’s go down there and tell those girls all about it! Heck, they aren’t even wearing the right shoes!”

“Mm…” Faye looked her over, “you still have a bounty on you.”

“C’mon, those girls don’t look like bounty hunters.”

“You’d be surprised,” the gambler muttered, but Fuu’s big, pleading brown eyes got the better of her, “okay, okay, fine. We can go talk to them for a bit, but then we’re checking out some stores. Window-shopping. You’re gonna need another outfit, and I’ve been getting bored of my closet.”

Before Fuu could run too far, Faye grabbed her back by the wrist, pulling her attention with a hushed tone— “oh, and one more thing. If they ask, just say you’re a history major at SIT university.”

With a quick nod of affirmation, Fuu now reversed their roles and tugged Faye by her bracelet, hurrying down a silver ramp. The flashing lights of the food court (wow, that’s a lot of food!) glimmered in her periphery, and the liveliness and intimacy of the mall filled her with so much excitement, she could barely hold it in. A wide, childish smile was plastered across her blushing cheeks, as she imagined the lives of each person in the building. What were they studying, where did they work? Who was in love, and who was in the hardest moments of their life? If she lived here, would any of them be her friend? She wished she could know this world as deeply as her own, but that was just as foolish as it was impossible. Sharing her own world was the next best thing. 

“Hey, excuse me!” Fuu waved down the two young women, “I just wanted to say, you look very pretty! The white makeup on the back of your neck is perfectly shaped!”

“Really? Thank you! This is a more niche fashion trend, so I didn’t expect anyone so knowledgeable to approach us,” the girl on the left scratched the back of her head with humble embarrassment, “I’m Hanako, this is my sister Reika.”

“Oh, Japanese names too. Are your parents history buffs, or just a couple of otaku?” Faye asked, trying to not sound bored (or rude) and only partially failing. 

“Everyone always asks that…” Reika sighed. 

“No, no, our family is just one of those rare types. We managed to hold onto our family’s Earthling culture pretty strongly, so when this fashion trend took off, it was a total no-brainer!”

“So you already know about it?” Fuu asked. Her mind began to wander… it truly warmed her heart to see young girls like her, hundreds of years out from her birth, living life like any person would. She knew that people didn’t just disappear into thin air, but it made the world seem so… solid? Continuous? It made her think, maybe she’d passed someone years ago, who had kids, who had kids, until eventually the two young girls before her were born. 

“...Excuse me? You zoned out for a second there, miss…?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. My name’s Kasumi. You see, I’m a… a history major! At SIT!”— good save— “And I’ve been studying some of the older traditions of the Geisha from the Edo period, also known as the Tokugawa period.” Fuu absentmindedly twirled her fingers in her hair, “the thing is, my studying is really isolating. I’d love to tell you about the traditions of Geisha over tea, or share some stories I’ve collected.”

Ugh. Faye knew that doing anything ‘for a bit’ was too good to be true. She especially knew that when the girls looked at each other excitedly, nodding their heads like eager children. Fuu smiled ever wider, so Faye took the reins and guided them all to some bubble tea shop two floors up. It was like babysitting Ed all over again. 

“So, I wanna tell you a funny story about this young renegade Samurai, who was totally forced to dress as a Geisha during— Uh, um, I mean! I have a story for you,” Fuu regained her composure instantaneously, “about the stakes, debt payments and corruption associated with the prostitution practiced by the Geisha.”

-

“What the heck was in that tea?” Fuu stuck her tongue out in disgust, picking a tiny piece of boba out from her teeth, “ugh, it made my stomach feel unsettled just _drinking_ it. If I knew you had to _pay_ for that I would’ve pulled an eat-and-run like Mugen!”

“Bubble tea,” Faye groaned, “it’s a thing. Now come on. You got to tell your story to those girls, now you’ve got to go shopping with me. And we’re on a time limit, so hustle.”

“Oh, right… aren’t we supposed to be making money for Spike’s plans, for the big night out?”

“So you remember.”

They walked into a large store, the facade all shiny and black, with wide display windows. All the mannequins had sunglasses, and Faye’s heels clicked across the cold, unfeeling tiles faster than Fuu could keep up. 

“Aren’t those dress cuts rather short?”

“To you, yeah— look, kid,” Faye ran a hand through her hair, “nothing here is gonna be the way you remember it, but you’re gonna have to live with that while you’re here, so just try, okay? When in Rome.”

“Never heard that.”

“It means follow my lead. Here,” she turned, entering a section designated for clothes you’d only consider as Night Out Fashion— not casual, not cocktail and certainly not white tie, “I’ve still got half our last bounty on my card, so pick out something you like.”

Fuu browsed the aisles carefully, half looking, half wondering why everything had so many sparkles. She also wondered how the dress she was wearing was too casual, but eventually she came across something fancier that wouldn’t leave her too exposed. It was a cropped pink top with a sweetheart neckline, paired with a pleated skirt that (thanks to her height) would fall just above her knees. If she looked close enough, she could notice small filigrees embroidered into it. Portions of meshy lace. 

“I think I’ve got it, Faye!” Fuu called out, carrying the hangers to the dressing room nearby. It was outfitted with full length mirrors, red velvety seats and the same shiny, black walls. A chill ran down her back. How could interior design make her feel so intimidated? 

Scratch that, how could an _outfit_ make her feel so intimidated? She stepped out of the small dressing room fidgeting with her hands, avoiding all the mirrors. Meanwhile, Faye was in a red mesh top and black skirt, her black bra exposed. Lounging on the velvet seating, she didn’t look the slightest bit uncomfortable. 

“You okay, Fuu? If you ripped it, just put it back on the hanger and pretend it never happened,” she took one look at the young woman and smiled, “ah, don’t be so bashful. You look nice.”

“Really?” Her face lit up, “y—you too! I was kinda worried about this, and I know that I’m still kinda short, and—”

“If this is about Mugen’s comments from earlier, let it go… men are strange creatures, Fuu. They’re big dumb lugs that don’t make a lick of sense, even the lankiest of them. Even that samurai.” Faye lowered her sunglasses with an utterly fatigued look, “...men always talk to other guys like assholes, but they’re playful about it. And frankly, that’s the key.”

“You’re… you’re describing them like they’re dogs. Wait, key?”

“Exactly. They have no common sense, just instinct, like dogs. As for the key, what I meant to say is that it’s important when guys are playful,” she held up a finger matter-of-factly, “doesn’t mean they’re smart! Just means they probably care about you in some big dumb lug way.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. But don’t seek that as validation, or you’ll end up getting burned. In fact, screw men altogether. You gotta own what _you_ got, Fuu. A confident, no-bullshit woman is one of the only things that can put a guy in his place. That,” she tapped her holster lightly, “or a gun. Now let’s see how we look, yeah?”

Stepping in front of the mirror, Fuu swayed her body to catch every angle, marveling at how— somehow, be it the lighting or the advice of When In Rome— she felt super cute… no, confident. _Both_. Like somehow, with only one look, she could kick ass among this crew of skilled swordsmen and fearless gunslingers. Make bandits faint in their tracks. Fuu wasn’t always keen to have all eyes on her, but right now? It was all she could hope for. So, turning to her partner with a go-getter smile and clenched fists, Fuu released her pent-up excitement. 

“They can scan this little tag thingy with me in it if they have to! I’m wearing this _out!”_

-

The line for the cashier was long and tedious, spent ogling over magazines and complaining over their traveling partners. But even when they reached the register, there wasn’t any relief. Really, they shouldn’t have expected anything less. 

“Fuck,” Faye groaned through gritted teeth, “I’m short 1000 woolongs. Hey,” she looked up to the cashier, “I’m a bit short, think you could let it slide since we’re already spending so much?”

“I’m afraid not, miss.”

“What? But that’s chump change! That’s a couple of bus rides right there!”

“Bus rides I use to commute to this job, miss.”

Faye only gritted her teeth harder and grumbled. Turning to Fuu, she side-eyed the shopping bags on the counter. They were temptingly close. With a lowered voice, the gambler whispered, “hey, what trick did you say Mugen pulled once?”

“I said he pulled an eat-and-run. You know, he didn’t pay the bill?”

“Yeah, well, maybe that brute knows more than he lets on, if you catch my drift. When I squeeze your arm, we’re gonna high tail it out of here.”

“What? Faye—!”

“Okay, okay! You’ve got me.” Faye smiled at the poor retail worker, digging one hand into her purse, digging the other into Fuu’s forearm, “I’ll pay part with savings, part with credit. Let me just get those cards out…”

And then, there it was. What looked like handing the card over turned into grabbing the shopping bags. What looked like a simple shopping excursion turned into a chase, as Fuu did her part and took off, dragging Faye behind her. They had security guards after them from the moment they got through the revolving doors. 

Faye took one look behind them and yelled, “shit, we’ve gotta lose ‘em.”

“Really?! Was this _really_ worth a dress?!” Fuu nagged, stumbling in her heels. She kicked them off and kept running. 

“Tough lesson, kid, everything’s overpriced in this damn city! I bet you it took _half_ the cash we paid to even _make_ this— agh, shit, take a left! No, your other left!”

“I only have one left!”

“I meant _right_ , okay?!” Faye gasped. Shit. They were boxed into a dead end. 

It didn’t take a genius to see that Alba City’s alleyways were labyrinthine. Any bounty hunter worth their salt knew it was impossible to traverse the place stealthily, unless you were keen to find a fire escape. And unlike a certain Space Cowboy, Ms. Valentine would rather not risk her life 6 stories off the ground. So raising their hands and laughing nervously, the two women backed up slowly, as if that would help their innocence at all. _Hey, I just robbed a glitzy clothing store, don’t mind me, my shoe-less compatriot or my obviously brand named shopping bag! Totally innocent, I swear!_

And after a rather tense argument with the Alba City Police, this is what they were left with: return the clothes, and come up with 2000 woolongs by the end of the night. 1000 for the clothes, 1000 for the policemen’s trouble. And if they didn’t, they’d be in the slammer overnight, or possibly until someone bailed them out for that sum. Wasn’t a compliment, being told you’re worth that little. Either way, 3 hours was 3 hours, the casino was far, and the streets weren’t kind. They really had to get to work. 

-

“Step right up! Try your luck! From the vaults of SIT’s History department, from the oldest of their oldest records of Earth, a genuine gambling game from 300 years ago or more!” Faye yelled out into the crowded street, “Chō-han, from the Edo period of Japan!”

“I feel like everyone’s staring at me…”

“You’re doing great.” Faye assured her. This plan wasn’t the best, but it was kind of their only option. Soon, two college-aged kids approached. One was sloppily dressed in a sweater and sweatpants with off-center glasses, the other was in the edgiest street fashion this side of Alba. “Hey folks,” Faye called, “you ready for a blast from the past?”

“Sure… hey, Desmond,” the sweater-clad student nudged, “we need even bets, I’m thinking 300 woolongs?”

“You kidding me? Stakes that low?”

“No, I’m not kidding you. Last I checked, first year PhD’s don’t make a living salary. Come on,” the young woman whined, “either 300 or we don’t play.”

“Fine.” The guy sighed, conceding. They each took out 300 woolongs and held them out to Faye. Checking, she nodded to their dealer. It was time to let the games begin. 

Fuu took a deep breath, just as she had once before, and started to slide her right arm out of her new shirt. Hastily, Faye grabbed her shoulder. 

“Wait, Fuu, you can’t do that!”

“What?” She whispered, “That’s how it’s done, that’s how the dealer dresses! I did this once before and no one batted an eye.”

“Well yeah, then, but nowadays they _totally_ would!” Faye’s eyes snapped back to find their patrons concerned, if not slightly pissed-off or amused. She managed to laugh it off nervously, “oh, don’t you worry about her. She’s just trying to make it accurate, but it seems like modesty’s a modern virtue!”

“Really? You’re not one to say that,” the streetwear kid responded. Faye just snatched his money away and held it high, out of his reach. 

“Look, d’ya wanna play or not?”

“Fine, fine! Sorry!”

“Both parties are ready?” Fuu asked, holding the dice deftly between her fingers, “if that’s the case… then let’s play!”

She bounced the dice off the concrete beneath her, catching them both in the bubble tea cup from earlier and slamming it into the pavement, “now! The rules are as simple in Japanese as they are in English— you add the dice, you pay the price. Chō for even, Han for odd! Bet!”

The sweater-clad student narrowed her eyes, and muttered out: “Chō.”

“Guess that means I pick Han.”

“And the result is…” Fuu pulled the cup off, shouting the answer in the roughest, most genuine staccato she could muster, “2-5! Han! Our friend with the backpack has won this bet. Chō, please hand your money to the house.”

“Ugh,” the poorly dressed student groaned, handing it over, “you’re covering that part of my dinner, Des.”

“Fat chance.”

“Why do I even hang out with you?”

The two walked off in some argument, leaving the women to look at one another and shrug. They knew that kind of dynamic too well. And it wasn’t five minutes later that two familiar faces approached. One with wire-frame glasses and a bag of comics, the other sporting an obnoxiously large hickey— and a grin, too. Faye decided to leave them to themselves, and try calling Spike. It kept going to voicemail. 

“Hey! There you are.” Fuu waved. Mugen waved back, tugging Jin’s nose out of his new book. They walked over, sitting against a nearby brick wall. Fuu took one look at the mark on her bodyguard’s neck and sighed, “you guys didn’t make any money, did you?”

“No. Well, yes.”

“Shut up, Jin. Doesn’t matter how we got it.”

“I really should’ve expected this…” Fuu lowered her head, sulking, “so you stole it?”

“Off an asshole who sliced up some chick at a brothel, yeah. Nothing that we haven’t done back home, stealing from jackasses.”

“He does have a point, there,” Jin mused, “the woman had a perfect square cut from her arm, which wouldn’t be this astounding if people actually used swords in this day and age.”

“He thinks he’s high and mighty cause he has pointy sticks.”

“You— what? You have them too, Mugen.”

“Yeah, but I don’t think I’m hot shit cause of my sword. I think I’m hot shit cause I just got laid.”

“Ugh, I didn’t need to know that!” Fuu turned away, disgusted. 

“Really? Y’don’t wanna know about how she used this—”

“No! I don’t! And frankly, with all your blabbering, you’re not doing me a favor!” Fuu shook the dice around in the cup, obviously frustrated, “we might’ve pulled one of your tricks, and now we’re in the business of paying some people back. So unless you shut up or help us get customers, me and Faye are behind bars tonight.”

“...Is that for Chō-han?”

“Yeah, and what’s it to you, changing the subject? Now you wanna play all the sudden?”

“Hell yeah, I’d play. You got customers right here! Oh wait, should I pretend I don’t know how?” Mugen laughed. 

“Somehow,” Jin deadpanned, “it’s like we’re the only ones in on a terrible secret.”

“Sure feels that way tonight, huh? I’d say it’s like I’m from another planet, but that doesn’t make much sense on Mars… Anyway, for old times sake,” she dropped her voice into the sharp, forceful staccato again, “place your bets, boys!”

“Han!” Mugen yelled. 

“Chō.” Jin conceded. 

Fuu tossed the dice sky high, caught them in the cup, and flipped it onto the concrete once again. She almost felt proud for the way Faye— this master gambler, with her own weighted dice and remote bracelet— stayed focused on the entire game. 

“3-2! Han! Mugen wins this round,” she tilted her head up to Jin, “but because we’re all saving money to pool, Jin does not need to pay the house!” 

“What? That’s bullshit! You’re just doing that cause you’re mad at me from earlier.”

“Instead, Jin is now indebted to buy me and Mugen some wagashi when we get home! And it has to be the kind with the white bean paste, that pairs well with matcha, and he has to buy us the matcha too! 

“Oh, oh, and if he fails? He’s gotta tell us an embarrassing story from his dojo days!” Mugen cheered. Jin just fixed his glasses and kneeled down to meet Fuu’s gaze, eye-to-eye-level. 

“I’m not against that, and I _am_ a man who pays his debts... But you do realize that regardless of what we make here, there’s no way of trading currency.”

“...What?”

“You’re not saying—”

“Sadly, I am. We’re going to be broke again from the very moment we get home.”

Jin caught Mugen’s foot as he went in for a furious, screaming kick. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy this one! I had a bit of writers block on it, but I got it done. Tried to do a bit of worldbuilding of what city life is like in 2071. Also, yes, there’s definitely supposed to be some implied Mugen/Fuu here, though it isn’t explicitly stated. I tried to make it rather subtle. As always, comments are appreciated!


	7. The (Short) Tale of Radical Edward!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: the ending of this chapter is a lot funnier if you read it while listening to the music you’ll find by clicking the second link!

**THE SHORT TALE OF RADICAL EDWARD:** sent off on her first official mission task (no more waiting alone on the ship!), Ed fits right in as a rave club DJ. It’s a night of new experiences, but sadly, her new business venture doesn’t last forever.

-

Ed was a curious kid, but she knew when to not ask questions— that is, she knew to never mess with a perfect situation. Like how she’d stumbled into a block of dance clubs and convinced the DJ she was meant to be there, and that she certainly wasn’t 13. Like how she ended up DJ’ing herself, playing [hyperpop](https://youtu.be/1MQUleX1PeA) on her trackpad without a care in the world. It was all coming up Edward. 

That was until the dance floor started settling down, or up, or just generally not being _settled_. Ed could smell smoke in the air, but it didn’t smell like Faye-Faye’s cigarettes. She saw papers getting passed around, but they weren’t mission plans. No, this was something very different. Half the dance floor stood still, in a daze. It was like the mushrooms all over again. 

Come to think of it, she never actually tried them! And whatever happened to Faye-Faye, Spike-Person and Jet-Person, they came out of that mess okay. Honestly, she was a little jealous that everyone had experienced something so novel— everyone except for her. So when a young woman in a neon dress and colorful bracelets offered her a tiny pipe, Ed figured one little try wouldn’t hurt. What was the worst that could happen?

A lot, apparently. Radical Edward spent the next fifteen minutes (which felt like an hour) in probably the closest state she’d ever been to pure terror, huddled underneath the turntable, seeing things. Weird things. Being convinced she wasn’t entirely human. Even when she registered the creaky hinges of the club door, and maybe some yelling, she couldn’t move. She was frozen in place, watching impossible fractals collapse in on themselves. The world buzzed. It crossed her mind that she was dying. It was like MPU was incinerating Nazca lines into her brain. In short, it was awful.

So when she came to, even with the dance floor empty, her heart wouldn’t keep quiet. A long strip of yellow tape covered the door. Police tape, she guessed. They must’ve missed her, barely 5 feet and wedged under the table. Fumbling for her comms, she tapped into Fuu’s earpiece, and immediately started yelling.

“Tell Faye-Faye Ed did something bad, but she can’t get mad at me!

-

“Ed,” Faye held up a small plastic bag, having snuck her way inside the closed-up club, “who the hell gave you salvia?”

“My mouth? That’s a silly question. I make spit in my mouth, Faye-Faye.”

“No, not saliva. Salvia. It’s— it’s smoked, it makes you hallucinate. And these,” she held up yet another plastic bag, full of little papers, “these are LSD tabs. You _better_ not have tried these. Now I don’t think you have, but you’re also _you_ , so I can’t tell.”

Behind her, Mugen was helping himself and his partners-in-crime to the un-manned bar. Jin sipped his wine patiently, and Fuu spit some clear liquid into a trash can.

“What the—! That’s so strong, it hurts! How does anyone drink that?”

“Don’t look at me like that, I don’t know what it is. The bottle just looked cool. It’s water, isn’t it?”

“That, or it’s sake, and you’ve had sake.” Jin noted. 

“No! That’s not sake!” Fuu coughed, “try it, see for yourself! I totally wanna throw up…”

Jin and Mugen looked at each other, then simultaneously went for the bottle. The idiots even made feeling like shit into a competition, it seemed. Jin ended up getting it first, and took a long, generous swig. Took a beat to regret his life choices. Then, he immediately gagged and gave Mugen the bottle, spitting it out on the floor. 

“Wow, real graceful.”

“I have a heartburn...” Jin sputtered. Mugen only took a drink, longer than Jin’s or Fuu’s— he nearly drained the bottle, before swallowing hard. His face got a little red, leaving Jin open to murmur, “no reaction?”

“If I speak I’ll give it away,” his voice cracked and he started coughing, “agh, shit. That _is_ really bad… people in the future must have shitty lives to drink stuff like this. Not worth the fun.”

“Hey! Hey, what is this?” Fuu waved around the bottle. She could see the gambler’s face drop from across the room. 

“That’s vodka! Have you lost your mind? You don’t drink that stuff straight unless you’re seasoned!” Faye groaned, stomping over and snatching it. Why was she the one playing babysitter tonight? Why were all the ‘babies’ trying to get intoxicated? Did Jet and Spike set her up? She wouldn’t doubt that for a minute. Taking a swig herself, she slammed the bottle down on the counter and spoke, “okay, that’s it. We’re raiding the cash register, getting out of here, and heading back to the Bebop. I've had enough of whatever Alba City has to offer for one day.” 

“Wait-wait-wait! Before we leave, Ed has a song to play for the swordy men!” Ed whined, hanging onto the straps of Faye’s suspenders. The gambler winced as they smacked into place, letting Ed bounce back up to the turntables. She pushed a few buttons and then, giggling, smacked the last one with her whole entire fist. The room lit up. A disco ball dropped from the ceiling. [And out of nowhere, a single spotlight fell on the ronin.](https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=QzcvRDWgRIE&t=0m22s&feature=youtu.be)

“Hm? A shamisen? Is this—”

“Ed, you fucking genius.” 

_I’ve been searching for a man,_

_All across Japan,_

_Just to find, to find my samurai!_

_Someone who is strong,_

_But still a little shy,_

_Yes I need, I need my samurai!_

“Oh my god, Ed! You didn’t just—!” Faye laughed, bent over at the hips with her hands on her knees. She was wheezing from the sheer look of shock on the Samurai’s face. 

“Check it, Jin!” Mugen joined in, pointing at him with both hands as Fuu nearly bowled Faye over, “this is your whole fucking legacy!” 

Jin took a single glance at his swords, before resting his head in his hands, “I’m actually very glad I don’t live right here, right now... or I would gladly kill myself, and leave this horrible excuse for a bar honorably. Above all else,” he gazed sadly at the disco ball, “I am terribly, terribly ashamed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter, partially because I struggle with only writing one character (no inter-character interactions), partially because I struggle writing Ed. Also probably because I expected a bit too much of myself when planning out my first multi-chapter fic. Still, I hope it’s enjoyable. As always, comments are appreciated!


	8. The Tale of Jet and Spike!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the next chapter, our heroes have a night on the town. If there’s a place you really wanna see them go (karaoke, an arcade, so on) feel free to leave a comment below and I’ll try to make it happen!

**THE TALE OF JET AND SPIKE:** with no leads from Big Shot, and a police presence so thick you could swim in it, the bounty hunters turn to street performing. But when they run across someone they’ve both been avoiding, will they be able to defend their turf?

-

Once the rest of their crew had walked off, Jet turned to his partner in crime with a fatigued sigh. “Spike… did I ever tell you how much you test my patience?”

“Yep, twice today,” the sharpshooter plugged his bass into the miniature amp from Ed’s quarters, giving it a test strum, “now make like Benny Goodman and [sing, sing, sing](https://youtu.be/r2S1I_ien6A), ya big lug.”

Jet grimaced, but settled into his stature confidently as Spike started the bass riff, his hands settled loose on his belt. It was a classic song— [Minnie the Moocher](https://youtu.be/g3AHqcinzZ4)— and if there was any Bebop bounty hunter to do it justice, it was the Black Dog. He inhaled, and began.   
  


_“Folks, here’s a story ‘bout Minnie the Moocher!_

_She was a red-hot hoochie-coocher!_

_She was the roughest, toughest frail,_

_But Minnie had a heart as big as a whale!”_

Jet leaned over with the force of the tune, stomping his metal boot to the blues beat and scatting through the chorus. Spike repeated each low train-like groan, each high pitched wail, head thrown back as he played the underscore. He saw that they were stopping people in their tracks, turning heads even, and he smiled wide at his partner in crime. Oddly enough, Jet was too preoccupied to notice. 

_“She hung around with a bloke named Smokey!_

_Oh, she loved him, though he was cokey!_

_He took her down to Chinatown,_

_And showed her how to kick that gong around!”_

It was around then that Jet pulled out a harmonica— where did he get that?— and Spike had to keep himself from laughing. They’d drawn quite a crowd, and Jet’s fedora was filling up with coins, dollar bills and even the rare phone number. One of the generous clients winked at Spike, catching him by surprise. Strangers in the night. 

Of course, he lost a bit of composure when what looked like a local teen pulled up next to them with her keyboard, and threw her own cup down. She pulled her dreads into a ponytail and started unfolding the contraption. 

“Hey, why’re you looking at me like that?”

“Wha— this is _our_ busking spot!” Spike whispered back, hoping Jet wouldn’t mess up. They needed the cash— “and we need this cash! We’re broke as a window in a shootout!” 

“Then just call this helping out, geez. Not to mention you really shouldn’t be busking on the bridge.”

“And you can?”

“Mmhmm. I’m from around here, I do this every Saturday after work. The cops already know they can’t catch me,” She paused, “I’m Carole, by the way.”

“I’m Spike. And that guy going to town on the harmonica’s Jet.”

_“She had a dream about the King of Sweden!_

_He gave her things that she was needin!_

_He gave her a home built of gold and steel,_

_A di-a-mond car with a plat-i-num wheel!”_

“Wow, he’s really into it.” 

“Yeah, it’s a secret talent of his.” Spike nodded. He would’ve almost smiled, if he didn’t catch a familiar, infamous face in the crowd. That hair. That stature. That terrible, slightly racist Samurai costume. 

It was none other than Andy. And he was holding an electric guitar. 

Spike lost his grip on the bass a little, but kept steady. He gritted his teeth as Andy swaggered through the growing crowd, coming to rest only a yard away from the sharpshooter. They stared at each other, head-on. Jet stopped singing. 

“So! We meet again… sorry, I forgot your name,” he carelessly swept a hand out to the side, “you’re just so forgettable, y’know?”

“Andy…” Spike growled, “why’d you come crawling back?”

“It’s actually Musashi—”

“Yeah, I am _not_ calling you that. Are you just here to blabber or do you have something important to say?”

“Of course I have something important to say, don’t you know the quiet archetype of the Samurai? They never speak unless necessary!”

“Don’t worry, I’ve gotten real familiar with it. So what’s the big news?”

“The big news is this, Spiegel,” Andy threw down a small amp (the same brand as Spike’s!) and strummed a power chord with ferocity, “I challenge you to a duel! Battle of the bands, right here, right now. A closing number to the fight we never truly finished.”

“But— but you literally told me I won. You conceded after I almost knocked you off the building.”

“Shh! I _told_ you, Samurai only speak if it concerns a necessary conversation, and this one’s over! Either you battle me, or you forfeit!”

“Tch,” Spike wiped at his nose with pride and snark, looking over at Jet and Carole, and motioned for them to step aside, “go ahead and try me. I’ve been getting lessons from the best, y’know? Heavy Metal Queen.”

“Don’t know her.”

“Course you don’t. And didn’t you say you’d only speak if needed? Cause it seems like you’re breaking that rule by even opening your mouth.”

“That’s it. Let’s go.” Andy gritted his teeth, and slid his fingers across the fretboard. He came in hot with the riff off [Enter Sandman](https://youtu.be/1ixKdkMWzFA), which seemed like cheating, cause everybody knows _that_ one. Shit. That would be hard to beat, but Spike knew some classics too, and was ready to pull out all the stops. He would treat this like any other shootout. He could fight dirty. 

So he responded with [Livin’ on a Prayer](https://youtu.be/zAdAz8-eX38). The bass line was repetitive at first, but slid into powerful chords at the chorus, which got the crowd singing. More than Andy’s solo did, for sure. They went back and forth like that for awhile, trading riffs and curses, until the crowd grew wide and Andy came in with [Holy Diver](https://youtu.be/EhGEGIBGLu8). The riff to end all riffs. 

It was now or never. There was only one thing Spike knew that could top that, but it was fresh in his mind. He didn’t have the muscle memory down pat, but like hell if he was going down without a fight. He’d do it. 

A silence fell over the bridge after Andy’s solo, and even the cops were watching intently. With the moonrise framed behind him, Spike cranked up his amp, and shot Andy the kind of grin a Bebop bounty sees before they die. Then, with a beginner's confidence, he let his fingers fly across the fretboard. 

[Hysteria, by Muse](https://youtu.be/27zOar_iEOA). Spike’s fingers, trained with the precision of his gun, flowed across the bass guitar’s neck like water. The notes folded in on themselves in rounds, keeping the silence but drawing the crowd. There was no contest as to who won; Andy hadn’t chosen any riff with such precise, fast-paced notes, and such a rhythm. It seemed Spike was two-for-two on battles with Andy. They still managed to have a very tense conversation (read: trying to get each other in a headlock) for ten minutes, during which their crowd began to disperse. 

Yet, to Spike’s chagrin, there wasn’t exactly a moment of closure here either. Only yelling from the far right, as Ed ran across the bridge with two illicit plastic bags held high above her head. Behind her was Faye, hauling their three Japanese guests, each of which was red in the face with alcohol. 

“Spike-person! Spike-person!” Ed yelled, shoving the little bags in his face, “look! Look what Ed found!”

Spike only snatched them away and leaned in close, muttering, “Ed, what rat gave you _drugs_? And— Faye! You were supposed to make cash, not take them out for drinks!”

“The fucks that?” Mugen pointed vaguely in Andy’s direction, unsteady on his feet, “weird ass shamisen.”

“Oh, that’s Andy. Y’know, the asshole I told you about? The one Jin got all pissed about? AKA, the guy whose ass I just beat _twice?”_

“I can’t quite place it,” Fuu swayed, “but something about his outfit feels… kinda rude?”

“Nah. Just seems funny to me. I’d make fun of the Japanese just as much as the next guy off Ryukyu. But check out four-eyes.”

“Ugh, great, now he’s unhinged,” Faye looked ahead of them, only to roll her eyes, “seems like the alcohols really setting in on that one.”

Jin had broken from the group, mere steps ahead, but that look was unbelievably distant. In Andy’s streetlight shadow, his hand shook, yet he kept it steady on his swords. The crowd had now fully dispersed from Spike and Andy’s busking charade, and it was nearing 1 AM. 

“So… you’re Andy? The man who’s been calling himself Miyamoto Musashi? And acting like that?” He gritted out, “you’re not fit to wield a sword, much less his name.”

“So he’s a real fanboy, huh?”

“Shut up, Mugen.”

“Heh, so you’ve come to challenge me, is that it? What’s your name, Mr. Samurai?”

“It’s Jin, student of Enshiro Mariya, trained in the art of Mujushin Kenjutsu,” he drew his sword, “and this won’t be anything near a challenge.”

Jin ran at Andy. Andy ran away. Jin got a solid cut in, so Andy ran straight off the bridge. Jin would’ve followed him into the reddening river, if Spike hadn’t grabbed him under the arms and hauled him off, kicking. 

“Let it go already,” he sighed, “ugh, your breath stinks of booze. What the hell did he get into?”

“Something he thought was water,” Mugen hiccuped, “but really, really wasn’t.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Carole and Tuesday takes place in the same universe as these other two shows according to Watanabe, so we get a cameo! I hope you enjoy this. In the next chapter, our heroes have a night on the town, and the search for the time scientists catches up with them. If there’s a place you really wanna see them go (karaoke, an arcade, so on) feel free to leave a comment below and I’ll try to make it happen! As always, comments are appreciated!


End file.
